The Other Lady G
by Marauder-In-Disguise
Summary: How does Rossi know enough about new fangled technological things to explain them to Reid? An add on of sorts to 6x14...


**A/N – OK, so this is just a little something that I had to do after watching 6x14 and hearing Rossi of all people tell Garcia that he's explain Twitter to Reid…And cause fanfiction angst has been forthcoming lately and I need to have some fun…**

**Disclaimer – I don't own Criminal Minds, tablets or Twitter, and if I owned Lady Gaga my brother would have murdered me for the rights a long time ago…**

"Kitten, I'm going to need you to explain a few things to me," David Rossi mumbled, walking into Garcia's office unannounced, new and frightening technical gizmo in hand.

With a smirk, Garcia turned from her laptop to find a rather sheepish oldest team member holding his new tablet as though it would explode.

"Have a seat, Agent Awesome" she grinned, indicating the spare chair, "I'll be right there, as soon as I've finished Twitter-stalking Gaga."

"I'm not even going to ask you what that means," Dave said wearily, slumping in the chair and gazing moodily at the offending piece of technology in front of him, "As long as it's legal, stalk away."

"Oh it's legal all right," she said distractedly, "Which makes it all the more delicious." With a couple of clicks of the mouse, the webpage disappeared and she turned to give him her full attention.

"Now what's the problem? I forgot technology is not your forte."

That was a mild understatement and they both knew it. Rossi's inability to understand technology was matched only by Garcia's love for it. What Morgan now referred to as 'The Great PDA Incident' was semi-legendary, and something that neither of those involved ever talked about. Garcia setting Dave up with a new laptop had been almost as bad, save for the presence of one Emily Prentiss who offered to sit in and translate between the two of them. No such luck this time; the only other person still around that evening was Hotch and he'd probably tolerate bickering for approximately three and a half minutes before he fled under the false pretence that he had work to do. They were on their own this time.

"OK," Dave took a deep breath and prepared himself for the onslaught, "Here's what I don't get…"

Forty five minutes, and surprisingly few arguments later, Dave had almost got the hang of it. At one point, Garcia had almost pulled up the April's Fools Day photos she had found of a gorilla operating a tablet, to show him that if a goddamn gorilla could work it out, he should be able to as well. But then she remembered poor, put upon Hotch still in his office and knew that any argument they had would invariably end up bothering him. So she grit her teeth, smiled menacingly, and set about showing him how to attach a document to an email for the fourth time in as many minutes. Slowly, they made progress, and she almost didn't regret giving him the infernal thing in the first place.

Almost.

"Thanks kitten," he said eventually, no longer prodding at the tablet like it might take his hand off, "I know I'm slow on the uptake when it comes to this stuff."

His look was almost wistful as he gazed around at the equipment in her office, and Garcia was suddenly struck by the idea that perhaps it wasn't just the feeling slow that got Rossi so riled by technology.

"I just feel old sometimes," he said suddenly, "And seeing Morgan, Prentiss, Reid, even Aaron, know how this stuff works without a second thought makes me feel older."

Her heart sinking as she remembered all the 'old man' jibes she had made in just the previous forty five minutes, Garcia reached out and covered Dave's hand.

"I am so sorry," she said, "I just don't even think, you know?"

"It's not your fault, Penelope," he shrugged, "Don't be sorry."

"No, I am," she insisted, "I just don't even think that some people don't speak my language. And it's not because you're old. You're just different, that's all. I should remember."

"Thanks kitten," he smiled, the slight dullness that had come over him lifting before her eyes.

"I promise, I won't complain next time I have to show you how something works," she garbled, "I don't mind really. It means I get to spend time with my favourite third generation Italian profiler."

"Less of the third generation," he teased, "I've got a certain reputation to keep up here you know."

"Of course," she smiled, relieved that he seemed to have come out of his funk. It had been a long while since she'd seen him as anything but upbeat and – well, not cheery but…content. Content with himself and who he was in the world.

"Just for the record boss," she said tentatively, "I've never seen you as old."

He quirked an eyebrow, "Sure you have kitten. I've got a good ten years on the next oldest member of this team and God knows how many on Reid."

"No, I haven't!" she insisted, "When I call you old it's a joke, because you don't get email or whatever. You act way younger you know? I hear you can round up an unsub with the best of them."

"I'll take that as a compliment," he said, a small smile playing over his lips, "And have a word with Morgan the next time I see him." With new found confidence, he tapped on the symbol on his tablet that he was almost certain would connect him to the internet.

"Now, Garcia, show me exactly what you meant when you said you were 'Twitter-stalking Gaga' or whatever it is you were on about earlier."

With a chuckle, she dramatically cracked her knuckles and turned the laptop screen towards him, "Prepare to have your mind blown, my friend."

"I was afraid you were going to say something like that."


End file.
